


framed

by deuklore



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Begin Again, F/F, Fluff, i think, inspired by a taylor swift song - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deuklore/pseuds/deuklore
Summary: yoohyeon is mystery and bora is art. and just how a bit of mystique can adorn an art piece, the two can learn to complete each other.
Relationships: Kim Bora | SuA/Kim Yoohyeon
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69
Collections: DreamCatcher Taylor Swift Ficfest 2k20





	framed

**Author's Note:**

> this is really rushed, sorry for any english mistakes!

Silent tears wet Yoohyeon’s face, resulting in the pressure in her throat dying down finally after she suppressed her cries for too long. Her hair, blue under the television screen’s light, sticks to the back of her neck from coming in contact with the drops of sweat covering it. The blonde lets out a trembling huff and presses her finger on the remote next to her, the room turning pitch-black a mere second later.

It was an awful movie, and perhaps that was what made her cry, not the illogical death of the child that seemed to have been plotted last minute. She believed it had great potential, so when the credits rolled her mind raced with thoughts of alternative endings that could force a genuine sob out of the viewers’ throats. Despite aiming to become a videographer, in other words a camerawoman rather than the storyteller, she does enjoy exploring her imagination, as well as the extra points her professor gives for her plotted works of cinematography, an aspect that the assignments of her classmates often lack.

Reminded of college and the big project awaiting her to start, the student sulks. That specific assignment due in a little less than a month, that is already planned but missing a big part of the requirements. A subject.

“A person.” Yoohyeon groans.

In addition to the social awkwardness that she struggles with, she’s doubtful of the possibility that another person would be able to grasp the complexity of her ideas. She isn’t a person to trust another, much less share her thoughts with one.

Out of habit of talking aloud to herself when stress is taking over, plus the fact that nobody can be listening to her rambling in her empty apartment, she goes over her options.

“I spoke to Handong,” the girl stares at her thumb that points upwards while gathering all her thoughts about the mentioned person. “A year older… classy vibes, nice to me but doesn’t look like she cares.”

“Lee Yubin. I hang out with her in the arcade, but her style is certainly not what I have in mind…”

“Kim Minji– That could never be an option.”

Days full of thinking and revising and rotting in her bedroom with her notebooks later, Yoohyeon sits on the hill-like spot of grass in the corner of the open yard. Her friends were nowhere to be found so she took the chance to visit this common hangout place in the middle of campus that her group detests for some unspoken, but collectively agreed upon, reason.

Both of her hands lift the small camcorder to level with her eye, the bright view before her changing into a dimmer one through the lens and she smiles at the sun that could no longer force her eyes shut. The camera slips from her hand, she clumsily catches it and accidentally presses her thumb too hard over the record button. The device beeps but she’s too distracted to hear it. She takes notice of how each group of students is seperated, leaving spaces as wide as possible between them and the other nearby, and as the videographer tries to decipher each group’s interest, searching for signs to confirm her theories and nearly getting all of them right, she averts the camera to the last group gathered right across from where she sat. Even with six individuals only it was the loudest, Yoohyeon notes, but she isn’t yet sure of their major. They looked like performers.

One petite girl whose mere presence managed to suck many people’s attention toward her is sitting on top of a table, and the slightly pathetic sight of the guy by her feet looking dreamily up at her urges Yoohyeon to do the same through her camera. Her neck is stretched upwards, decorated with a red necklace that went well with the white blouse she is wearing. Quite unconsciously Yoohyeon zooms in on her face, parting her lips to suck in a breath before catching them between her teeth.

Two alarms at once, the girl shoots a glance to the idiotic filmer and the recorder makes the same sound again, drawing Yoohyeon back from her trance and she pulls away quickly. She curses under her breath and struggles to delete the video out of sheer nervousness.

“Can I see that?” A voice startles her, although if she wasn’t just caught red-handed it would sound anything but startling. She arrived next to her much faster than Yoohyeon calculated. 

She gulps before facing up, and meets cavernous eyes looking directly at her. They are so deep and prettily brown. Her own gaze switches between the face of the girl and the small hand that’s reaching for her recorder. The thought of making a run for it crosses her mind but it instantly becomes a blur as soon as it comes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not reporting you.”

“Are you a student?” Yoohyeon asks, and gets responded to with a nod. She proceeds to quiz her. “What’s your major?”

One eyebrow arches up, curiously and a little judgmentally. “Dance.”

“Dance? That’s a major?”

“Very much so.”

Squinting her eyes, she lets her camera onto the stranger’s hands with slight hesitance. While the other goes through the video that was obviously taken by mistake, Yoohyeon positions her head in an angle where the sun is blocked by the short girl’s head, taking advantage of the short time to analyse her angular visage. Her cheeks were slightly bigger than before for the smile that her thin lips formed, tinted pink from the heat, she assumes. Yoohyeon likes how defined the bridge of her nose is, how her bangs are parted to show a glimpse of a forehead and she thinks her skin is fair and pretty. 

She’s drawn to her eyes, dark but glistening.

“Dance students aren’t so busy, right?” The videographer asks inattentively, frowning upon her own question shortly after.

The girl scoffs. “Yeah. Not so busy.”

Yoohyeon hums. She knows how stupid the words that are dangerously close to slip out of her mouth might sound, but she already embarrassed herself anyway. No first impression to risk anymore, so she goes for it.

“Do you want to be my muse?”

“Would you pay me?”

“No.”

Yoohyeon’s straightforwardness makes a titter falsely roll out of her mouth. Falling silent, she flips the camera in her hands and stares curiously at the name written on it.

“Okay, Yoohyeon. Make it fun.”

Yoohyeon still can’t believe how easily she had agreed. With a funny smile on her face, pulling out her phone on the spot and eager to know the day they would meet again.

It’s a rainy Wednesday when Bora walks in a café, looking for a certain stranger, blonde haired. The place has a pleasant but mysterious feeling to it and so does Yoohyeon, she thinks. She finds her between countless customers when the other student raises a hand and waves.

She smiles and mutters a greeting, which the younger girl replies to by bowing, after she scrapes her chair back. She’s polite, Bora appreciates that, but it was a little surprising and it left her with a reddening face. They have yet to say a single word to each other when a woman about their age approaches their cornered table, asking for the newcomer’s order and lingering a little longer to enlighten her about how lucky she is to be starring in one of Yoohyeon’s works. Bora takes a guess that it isn’t Yoohyeon’s first time coming here, unlike herself.

“Not only for the beautiful piece of art she would dedicate to you. She’s a charmer.” The waiter gains a glare for her statement and only leaves when Yoohyeon urges her to.

Bora wonders if that’s true.

It’s captivating, the way in which Yoohyeon expresses her ideas and what she has for Bora to do. The concept itself is amazing and quite original, Bora instantly grows excited for it, but what amazes her most is how passionate Yoohyeon is about the project. Even though she isn’t quite expressive with her face or tone of voice, her thorough descriptions and the heavy meanings behind each word she opts to say makes the older girl feel like she’s at an appointment with a successful film director, in actuality.

Bora knows what she had just told her isn’t all of it, hell, it could be just a quarter of it and the evidence is the big stack of paper that Yoohyeon had just put together before taking a break to sip from her cup. But she doesn’t mind not knowing all of it, she likes being curious and she has a feeling she’ll be a lot of that in the following week, with the company of the filmer who sparked her interest in more ways than one.

Their meeting is shortened to an hour due to reasons on the dancer’s part, and Yoohyeon decides to let her go at the exit. The rain is aggressive and louder than before. It hits the small roof that barely protects the front of the shop, the outdoor tables are wet and neglected.

They sigh in unison, only then Bora notices she followed her out.

Before Bora could ask, the brief process of Yoohyeon’s umbrella unfolding sounds in her ears and water stops dropping on her forehead. She wants to thank her and get on her way, but the handle is not in her hand and Yoohyeon starts talking and maybe the universe doesn’t want to separate them yet.

“I have one more question.” She extends her arm and now her free hand is surrendered under the rain, her palm a tiny pool. It shakes slightly.

“What do you think of love?”

“Love?” Bora can only stare at her side, her head tilted upwards because Yoohyeon stands taller. She nods.

“You’re asking the wrong person. My experiences aren’t the best.”

She meets her eyes. “You can still give me an answer.”

Bora tries to come up with one, but she can only think about how strange the question is, and Yoohyeon. And her bad experiences.

“It always ends.” She answers without much pondering. “Can I borrow your umbrella?”

The two students are sitting on the table, the same one Bora was sitting on with her classmates the day she first laid her eyes on a clumsy videography major, one across the other and not communicating. Bora’s eyes drop from Yoohyeon’s face to the camera between her long careful fingers that she’s been adjusting for a while. She watches the blonde strands of hair dancing on her forehead because of a breeze passing by, and her lashes batting every other second as if her eyes are going to water from concentration, pleading for a break. 

If she wanted something so pretty to film, she could’ve used mirrors. Bora lets the thought roam in her brain, and soon it’s developed into more detailed scenarios until Yoohyeon sighs. Possibly the first sound she makes after declaring her device needed a bit of fixing.

“Why aren’t we at your place?” The dancer asks.

Yoohyeon looks up through the camcorder, the feeling that she’s taking a glance at something forbidden still present within her when she gets Bora into the frame. She likes the feeling, it causes another weird but warm one to take off from the pit of her stomach and rise until it reaches her throat, coming out as a content sigh from her lips.

“Are you recording?” Bora squints her eyes. When the other doesn’t bother to answer again, Bora throws her head back laughing out of pure shyness. Even in the darker view in Yoohyeon’s lens, the pink on the older’s cheeks is apparent and she adores it.

“What are you even recording?”

“Just keep talking.” The camera beeps as she expertly turns the zoom rings just enough times.

“Why?” Bora whines, the lack of replies she’s getting a great addition to her flusteredness. But Yoohyeon doesn’t stop filming to please herself. She realises this was one rare case in which she was satisfied from the start, and only wanted more.

Time passed fast. Throughout the days Yoohyeon was introduced to a new kind of warmth. A strange warmth that would set her insides at ease but not her mind. It would play with her mind, mixing all the new ideas that seemed to be coming without a stop and the unfamiliar train of thought, and sometimes melting anything and everything, shattering her morals and principles and fooling her into thinking that sometimes it’s okay not to think, just to feel. There was only one cause to the sudden change and Yoohyeon knew it but didn’t understand why.

Why couldn’t she stop watching the same clips over and over again before she fell asleep? Those clips that no longer felt like ones for the amount of times she analysed them, made them into something real, where she would pretend the girl in her camcorder is in the same room with her, sitting closely next to her where she can not only hear her laugh at herself but feel it against her when Bora would get too embarrassed that she would throw her head under the taller one’s chin.

“What do I do?” Bora had asked one time, very aware of being stared at through the camera. 

“Smile.”

“I am smiling.” She made a funny face a little off the frame but Yoohyeon was aiming to capture as many angles as she could, and easily caught it. 

“I’m not deleting that.” 

“Yes, you are!”

Bora rushed to where she was standing, desperate to get the footage wiped out but as she expected, the filmer brutally used her height against her. One jump helped her reach the other’s arm, but her hand was caught in the air by Yoohyeon’s unoccupied one. The movement calmed the small girl down and instead it drew her eyes to their connected fingers. 

Yoohyeon tilted her head, making out an alternative image in her mind as her thumb caressed the skin that it met with. The older girl tried to retract her hand and it only resulted with it being held tighter, much to her surprise.

“Wait,” Yoohyeon let her camera fall to the grass and hurriedly searched for something in her pockets. 

Bora’s eyes almost widened when a silver ring with a white gemstone attracting the sun’s light stuck to it appeared in Yoohyeon’s hand, the girl holding it with the tip of her fingers. She withdrew any comment she had and decided to let her do whatever her imagination told her to. Yoohyeon gently pulled Bora’s hand closer and held it by the wrist, slipping the ring into her ring finger and admired how smoothly it fit around it. She was proud of her idea, her eyes glinted contentedly and the sudden illuminating smile forming her lips made Bora’s heart skip a beat as she was watching the taller girl’s face all while she was putting the ring on her. She hoped the feeling of her hand sweating was only a false alarm.

“I want you to walk while standing on that wall over there.” Yoohyeon explained. “I need to get a shot of the ring, so I’ll be holding your hand while you’re walking.” She paused, looking for any signs of dismay in Bora’s face. “Is that okay?”

“Perfect.” Bora avoided the eye contact that Yoohyeon silently asked for by turning around and quickly heading to the point where she was told to stand. With furrowed eyebrows, Yoohyeon clasped the camera in her hands and followed after her.

Sometimes Yoohyeon would notice the discomfort she causes for Bora, but she isn’t sure how she does it and she wishes she could stop. At first, she wasn’t certain of these doubts. Yoohyeon realised she never approached the topic of the older girl’s personal life, and nor did she. They never talked or thought about anyone else, as if the world didn’t own them but they did. She chose to believe that her sudden distant behaviour is because of something she’s going through at the moment, but Yoohyeon’s worry increased when Bora had refused to meet her continuously for a period of five days, without uttering a single word as a reason in their calls.

So many more ideas are still in the back of Yoohyeon’s mind, and in order to have her project come out flawless, she needs to shoot them. She can’t, though, with her subject’s absence, so she sits on the floor of her living room, between her small coffee table and the sofa, clutching the sides of her laptop and thinking of ways to fix what she’s got into one piece of film, without making it look unfinished. Her professor never appreciates rushed projects.

As panic threatens to take over, not even the beautiful smile on Bora’s face on the wider screen is able to give her the slightest reassurance. She stares back at it with eyes full of confusion, her chest rising up and down with every extended breath she takes.

“Fuck it,” Yoohyeon curses and lets the device fall from her lap. She turns on the tv and the same bad thriller she was watching two weeks ago resumes playing. She feels a lack of energy to switch to another so she doesn’t, crossing her arms and giving the director a chance to impress her with the ending she hasn’t yet seen.

The not-so-lifeless child leans on her forearms and looks out the room from her deathbed, to a teary eyed father who rushes inside and his very first act is to pull his daughter's head to his chest. Yoohyeon frowns at the smile he gives her, because it looks genuine and happy. Emotions that shouldn’t be conveyed in such tragic circumstances, doesn’t the director know? She doesn’t have the time to look for the meaning behind it before the doorbell goes off and scares her.

At the door is Bora who stands small and guilty under the height of the house’s owner. Yoohyeon has had a blank face since she opened the door and it makes Bora feel even more wrong for doing what she did. One thing she’s sure of is that none of it was intentional. She didn’t mean to ghost Yoohyeon, but Yoohyeon and her endearing charms, her intense stares and her oblivious way of making Bora so weak by every glance and touch she gives her, every word of praise she allows herself to say to her, it was all harassing her heart to the point where she needed a break. And so Bora decided that Yoohyeon can take a bit of the blame, too. 

“Hey.” Yoohyeon greets. “I’m gonna have to ask you how you found my address but come in for now.” Her mixed feelings show in the halfhearted smile she gives to Bora after she steps aside, but she hopes it looked as inviting as can be.

The first thing to grab the visitor’s attention is the familiar scent that she loved being engulfed in whenever Yoohyeon took off her jacket for her. Obviously it would be much stronger in her own home, and the impact it has on Bora is just as strong, goosebumps instantly springing on her arms because she missed it so much.

“It’s so dark…” The dancer can hardly make out what’s in front of her while she walks through the small hall. Only the sound of the tv replies to her, and the thing she sees when she approaches the couch in the middle of the room makes her heart throb faster. She is sure that the photo of her was taken by a misclick, because she remembers every single detail of the past week with Yoohyeon and she never posed for it. The slight possibility that the other girl could still be storing every bad take, every messy clip and every imperfection that was accidentally shown on her camera somewhere on her memory device to, perhaps, watch it later when Bora is no longer her project gives the older girl a tiny spark of encouragement.

Bora stops right in front of the laptop, her head down, randomly wondering things like what Yoohyeon was thinking about before she interrupted her. When the movie playing in the background is paused, Bora finally turns around and gives her attention to the one desperately asking for it.

She swallows the threatening stutter before trying to speak. “Can you get your camera?”

Yoohyeon sticks to doing what the other wishes, disappearing into another hall on the left. She chose to ignore the exiguous jerk Bora’s hand made when she had to walk past her and maybe she made that mere skin contact on purpose.

She comes back to a new light in the room coming from the candle that has sat untouched for years on the table, and to Bora who is sitting comfortably on the ground where Yoohyeon had been working on her videos only a few minutes ago. Hugging her legs, her fingers with red painted nails playing with the bracelets on her wrist, and her face clear under the yellow light that helps reveal the soft expression she wears. Bora looks stunning.

“Why did you come here? There’s nothing mildly exciting for a background.” Yoohyeon sounds displeased talking about her place, Bora notices, but she doesn’t comment on it even though she wants to tell her how it suits her so well, how it makes her feel as safe and sound as she does.

“We can go to some park in the neighbourhood, it’s better than here.”

“Why do you still want to take videos of me?” Bora doesn’t move an inch. Yoohyeon walked across the room and was ready to put an outdoor coat on until her question stopped her. She feels a twinge in her chest when the sorry voice speaks to her, with a hint of disbelief.

“Why?” Yoohyeon repeats, confused. “I can make the final video better, so why wouldn’t I try?”

“What would make it better?”

“I don’t know, new settings, a darker sky like now?” She retreats back into the living room.

Bora eventually shoots her a glance, having to tilt her head upwards because Yoohyeon hasn’t sat yet. Her eyes drop to the unchanging, signed camcorder in the younger girl’s hand. She takes it, secures it in her lap and pulls Yoohyeon down by her wrist.

There’s a few seconds of unbearable silence. None of them shift eyes away from each other, but Bora’s is a little more fidgety. 

“Here.” Her voice is lower, her words are shorter. Yoohyeon takes her camera and prepares to start recording. Why Bora wants her to film doesn’t matter. After all, it’s all they ever had between them, it’s what Yoohyeon had introduced herself with. 

The familiar beep is Bora’s cue to look at the camera, but, affected by the undeniable tension in the air, Yoohyeon feels like she’s staring right through, straight into her own eyes.

Yoohyeon hums quietly, her mind already racing with ideas about how she can fit the dark setting of her living room with the more vibrant theme of her movie. Bora glances around her, trying to buy herself some time before the dreaded moment. The moment that holds too much meaning for her but could be just ridiculous for the other girl. 

But ridiculous can be good, and not all surprises are doors to an unpleasant future. The optimist side of her thinks.

Three minutes pass, during which Yoohyeon manages to capture a visually winsome clip but she figures out the only bad feeling within her to be dissatisfaction. And she can’t afford to waste time, because Bora can leave her again. Restive and malcontent. But she doesn’t stop recording, she rarely does.

Bora feels her shifting closer and the fingers nonchalantly touching her cheek. 

“Can you look up at me?” She requests with a distracted voice. Her hand lingers to tuck a strand of soft hair away from Bora’s face, revealing her comely eyes better. Bora doesn’t let her pull it back, she holds the wrist in place and wishes to be able to see the change in the filmer’s expression. Just a slight push of reassurance is what Bora needs, and as if Yoohyeon isn’t so oblivious suddenly, she gives it to her by caressing a tender finger down her jawline.

“Why did you ask me that question, when I was leaving the café?”

“It was to help me create the right trope for the movie.”

“Right.” Bora drops her hand, but her current position makes Yoohyeon grow curious about her next move. “Then why is it so bright?”

The camera blocking Yoohyeon’s face adds to the awkwardness that only Bora feels. She wants to snatch it away and see her face.

“Because I decided to discard your answer, and just go with what you made me feel.” She confesses.

“What was that?” 

“I can’t put a name to it.” The reply causes Bora to pause. Yoohyeon answers so quickly, like she knows what’s to come out of her mouth before she puts it into words.

“Is it something good?” Bora asks.

“Yes.” The reticent girl would rather leave it as that but Bora’s eyes compel her to say more, filled with curiosity. And other things. “I thought about your bad experiences. It’s something like wanting you to have a good one.”

Her following silence makes Yoohyeon’s impatience greater, as well as her restless gaze that jumps from one place to another on her own face. Or maybe it’s something else, but it overwhelms her quickly. She’s suddenly conscious of two arms trapping her from two sides, one on the seat of the couch and the other on the furry carpet.

“And it’s so demanding.” 

She doesn’t recall playing with the zoom rings but Bora’s face looks closer, placed just above her own knees. Bora can’t bear with the camera much longer so she grabs it from the younger’s light grip and now it’s on the ground, aiming upwards, in a perfect position where their flushed faces are in the frame. It focuses on their lustful, glistening eyes.

“That’s really nice.” Bora finally uses her voice, but it’s not quite what Yoohyeon wanted to hear. It confuses her, as well as the soft sounding laugh that follows out of her mouth. A laugh that conveys many things, but mostly disbelief. She doesn’t object, though. She can’t because now she’s sure her mind isn’t playing tricks on her. Bora is so close and so captivating that it takes away her ability to speak, and encourages her to lean in sync until the gap is no more. 

Bora’s lips envelope her own, kissing them so slowly that it drives out a sigh from her. 

Bora doesn’t know if this one will be any different, but for her it’s a very endearing beginning. At the moment where the girl lies beneath her, securing her waist with gentle hands, lips muttering careful questions against hers, she realises that Yoohyeon will always be strange to her. But strange never felt so lovable.


End file.
